Our Honored Dead
by Valairy Scot
Summary: One year after tragedy and triumph, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan Anakin Skywalker return to Naboo for its first Memorial Day. It is an anniversary of endings and of beginnings.
1. Chapter 1

Naboo was, he had to admit, a beautiful planet. Soft clouds tantalized with glimpses of verdant green as the ship broke orbit and angled down to the designated landing spot. The capital came into sight – the broad boulevards and ribbons of silver water interlaced – the magnificent palace he had wandered alone in his grief.

He had never meant to return, but here he was once more, one more being with one more piece of grief to add to the grief of the thousands he would face tomorrow.

Obi-Wan's hands tightened just a little on the control yoke of the small interplanetary craft and he glanced over at the almost-bouncing boy who had leaned so far forward in his seat that his nose smudged the windshield. He needn't have worried; his padawan's focus was out there, seeking the presence of another and oblivious to his master beside him.

"Anakin, strap in, we're landing shortly." A slim hand gently urged his padawan back into his seat. That got the boy's attention. Pleading eyes looked at him.

"May I land, Master? May I?"

Inwardly shuddering at the thought of an anxious boy barreling towards the landing pad -and Obi-Wan hurtling along with him - the young man merely said softly, "This planet does not need to witness another tragedy, my padawan."

"Master!" The boy's eyes reflected his hurt at the statement, but Obi-Wan continued on as if he had not been interrupted, "And it would be a tragedy if I should stagger out of this ship and promptly throw up in the midst of our welcome."

What he saw as a possible tragedy was apparently a source of amusement to the boy at his side.

"Yeah, my landings make you just as green as Master Yoda." Anakin giggled and after a moment, Obi-Wan grinned as well. He could see the humor in the situation after all, from his padawan's viewpoint. From the viewpoint of their welcoming committee, now - .

A low chuckle escaped him. Never in the annals of recorded Jedi history had a Jedi sprawled on the ground before a head of state during a formal welcome.

"I would hate to tarnish Master Yoda's reputation, and a green Jedi low to the ground, bent over on hands and knees, might be mistaken in the first few seconds for our esteemed master. Not to mention I have no desire to have my ankle get reacquainted with his gimer stick."

"He hits Jedi? I won't let him hit you, Master." Anakin was all indignation now, and belatedly Obi-Wan remembered that Anakin had not grown up with either those jokes or little taps.

He tousled the boy's hair. "A joke, Padawan. I tug your braid, he taps ankles."

"O-kay."

The young man grinned. Anakin wasn't quite persuaded, but he was willing to take his master's word for it. That in itself was a miracle of the Force.

His grin faded to a frown as he turned his attention on his final approach. They cleared the Royal Hangar and Obi-Wan let out a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. He had thought the landing coordinates would guide them there, not close by. It was another miracle of the Force – two in one day.

"You're pale, Master. Master? Coruscant to Master?" After a short minute, a bellowed "Obi-Wan" followed, and the young Jedi winced and rubbed at his ears.

"You know, you have been looking a little queasy the last day or two. You should have told Master Yoda you were getting sick – "

"I'm not sick," Obi-Wan interrupted as a small hand reached over to touch his forehead. One hand came up and caught the boy's hand and lightly squeezed. He looked out the window and his hand tightened further. He came back to himself and patted the boy's hand at the small yelp.

"I'm not sick; I'm just – I'm not sick," he repeated gently.

"You're sad."

"I am sad," Obi-Wan agreed after a moment's hesitation. It had been a year after all; he hadn't realized the sadness was still there. Until Anakin called it to his attention, he hadn't really tried to identify the emotion, merely to accept it and let it flow from him.

"It will pass, Anakin, it will pass. 'There is no emotion' is something to strive for, not a state of being. And you, are you sad as well?"

He could see Anakin taking just a moment to mull it over in his mind before admitting, "If I think about it, I'm sad, but I'm really excited about this being my first mission and getting to see Padme again. Do you think she kept the japor snippet I carved for her – do you think she remembers me? I think about her all the time, especially when I'm, uh, when I'm…."

"Lonely?" Obi-Wan filled in. Anakin nodded. The young Jedi knew the feeling well. The last year had been intensive work, spent mostly in his padawan's company as he tried to catch the boy's training up to the level of his age mates. Dealing with the occasional temper tantrums and all too frequent mischief making of a boy trying inexpertly to cope with the upheaval in his life gave him little time to socialize with his friends – or any adults, really.

"I know it's hard, Padawan, but you are making friends."

"I'd make them faster if I wasn't stuck in classes with kids," Anakin suggested hopefully.

"Keep working hard and your skills will soon be up to your age mates." Anakin's rebellious expression expressed his padawan's perception that he was already at their level – or beyond.

Overlooking the scowl, Obi-Wan offered gently, "You have worked very hard and learned much in a short time. It won't be long, I promise, before I will ask the Council to reconsider which classes you should attend."

The scowl turned into a smile. "Thank you, Master!"

The delighted grin usually preceded a big hug. Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin's head, a warning not to unbuckle himself and interfere with the final landing approach.

"There's Padme!" Anakin pointed out the window, an even bigger grin splitting his face.

"Maybe it's her decoy," Obi-Wan said with a sly grin, but Anakin merely shook his head as if he had no doubt.

The ship settled with only the slightest of bumps.

"Umm, Master?"

"Yes, Padawan." He decided to adopt the patiently bemused tone he was working on perfecting. Learning to throw in a twist of sorely abused patience would come later, and no doubt quite naturally, considering his padawan's normal exuberance.

"Not bad, but you really should have kicked in the retros one second sooner."

"We landed in one piece and no bumps. That is sufficient, Padawan."

"Yes, Master." A dutiful murmur that meant "No, Master."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Out of the corner of one, he could see Anakin doing the same. _At least we're in synch with something_, he snickered to himself.

Post-flight checks completed, Anakin's tunics straightened and cowlick partially tamed, Obi-Wan reached for the ramp release switch – and hesitated. He looked at Anakin and decided a reminder was most definitely not out of place. Force knew the boy was all too easily distracted at times, and he was already bubbling with excitement.

So before opening the ramp, he cautioned his padawan, "Remember this is not a social visit. This is a ceremonial visit and your first mission. Be mindful of your duties, no matter how excited you are." When Anakin merely nodded, half-listening, Obi-Wan knelt and took the boy by the shoulders and made sure to have the boy's full attention.

"Remember we are here to honor those who died and suffered under the occupation. It is a very solemn observance. That is the Queen who waits to greet us. That is not Padme. You will see Padme at the Palace."

_And you, Kenobi, who will you see? Will you see ghosts or have you laid the past to rest?_

He shook off that thought - he would welcome Qui-Gon's ghost if such appeared, but ghosts did not exist. Ghosts were nothing but memories of the heart.

_I did not want to come, but I came for you, Qui-Gon. I did not want to come, but I could not say no._

A sad smile graced the knight's face as he prepared to step forth on the planet that had changed his life. Not just his own life, either.

Far too many lives had been altered on Naboo, a year ago. In a few days they would recognize that and honor those who walked under the warm Naboo sun no more. The dead would finally be laid to rest, and their memory honored.

Naboo's first anniversary of freedom – Naboo's first Memorial Day in recognition of the cost paid to achieve that.

"If you honor what they fight for..." The words echoed in the young Jedi's mind.

And suddenly there was no place Obi-Wan Kenobi would rather be, than dedicating the following days to those who had fallen and those who had lived to rebuild.

The dead lived on, in those who were left behind.

The Jedi knight squared his shoulders and raised his head high. Naboo awaited.


	2. Old Friends

Even a Jedi could be forgiven the falter in his steps as Naboo again filled his senses.

The air was warm, almost hot, and aromatic with the spice that was almost a taste of wine against the tongue. In soft counterpoint, the delicate scent of pansea and jurnassi in full bloom sometimes triumphed over more intense aromas when a wisp of wind wafted its perfume instead. Water vapor from the mighty falls occasionally reached misty fingers here, this high above the vast pool below and coalesced into shapes – Qui-Gon! he almost gasped at one –before the shapes swirled away into nothing.

Memories whispered against Obi-Wan's mind, of tragedy and triumph, of danger and danger surmounted. Cheery baskets full of multi-hued blooms softened the prevalent stone of the plaza and surrounding buildings, proud banners of life adorning the stone facades rather than the more common flags seen elsewhere. Ripe Mylori'i vine fruit again tickled at his nostrils as it had when creeping through the then silent streets, not yet knowing what lay ahead.

_Sneaking up stairs and along walkways, every sense alert to the Force as the sense of wrongness swelled – armed droids escorting the Queen and her entourage to a prison-of-war camp – the quick fight – the escape into space_ – it was all as fresh as if yesterday.

_Sneaking through silent streets and into the Royal Hangar – the chill of impending confrontation – the battle and the blade – the blade, oh the blade that pierced two hearts that day_ - swallowing against the memories, Obi-Wan firmly planted himself in the here and now, and led Anakin down the ramp, to stand once more on Naboo.

Had they turned back into their ship, they may have turned back time by a year, for those who had seen them off now stood to greet them.

Dressed in formal regalia, the Queen stood flanked by her advisors, handmaidens and a contingent of Gungans. Obi-Wan almost smiled as his eyes caught sight of a squirming Jar Jar Binks, forcibly restrained in place by the firm hand of Boss Nass.

Ever excitable, a child in an adult's body, the Gungan had proven to be a valuable ally a year ago and despite his irritating eagerness he even was, Obi-Wan had to admit, quite tolerable in limited doses – limited, for even a Jedi's infinite patience did not quite stretch to infinity in Bink's presence. Qui-Gon had admitted as much to him, once upon a time.

The elaborate headdress and formal layers of make up, not to mention the heavy, stiff dress had to be extremely uncomfortable in the heat, but no hint of discomfort was visible in the Queen's demeanor. 'The Queen' was a public persona, a façade for the masses, a formal presence that masked the being inside, not unlike a Jedi in public.

"Welcome to Naboo, Master Jedi." The voice was as formal as the gloved hand held out, fingers bent to accept Obi-Wan's fingers in return; the traditional finger clasp of protocol.

"We are honored, milady, at your invitation."

Fingers lightly touching, Obi-Wan bowed over the hand. A smile touched Queen Amidala's eyes as they passed over Obi-Wan to the boy at his side, urged to bow as well by his master's hand on his back.

"We are honored that the Jedi Order chose to accept our invitation to observe our day of recognition and reconciliation – and that it chose to send two of its best as its representatives."

At his side, Anakin bounced on his toes, beaming at the words. Obi-Wan merely dipped his head as protocol required. _Focus, padawan, polite words they are, but not – necessarily - the truth._ _In some years, perhaps_. A mental wink accompanied the thought.

Anakin stilled, but the Force equivalent of an incredulous snort came back through the bond. For lack of a proper foundation the boy was overall at early initiate level, but once the basics of a particular skill had been mastered, the boy's abilities at that skill far outstripped his age mates. Building that foundation was Obi-Wan's task, as well as that of the other teaching masters, and it had proven to be no easy task for any of them.

It had also come at a personal cost, though a cost Obi-Wan had willingly accepted. The new knight had not had time to be a knight, to learn to lead rather than to follow. This ceremonial mission was not just Anakin's first mission; it was also Obi-Wan's first mission in a year; the first without Qui-Gon in that lead position.

The young knight hoped that in the next few years he could accept the occasional solitary mission. This past year he could not in clear conscience have left the boy behind, but after a year of adjustment and training, it was time to reevaluate many things.

Anakin had been deeply immersed in training this past year, and his classes of necessity were with those younger. Anakin hungered for friends; suffered from loneliness than Obi-Wan could only attempt to minimize – largely by keeping Anakin occupied and trying to catch up to his age mates.

Anakin's rapid growth in skills and knowledge more than likely meant the boy might soon transfer into more advanced classes. It would do his padawan good to be with others of his age, not just his master and the younger students, and his winning personality should quickly garner him more friends.

With his padawan better situated, Obi-Wan would feel comfortable leaving him behind. Not until Anakin was thirteen would he be allowed to accompany his master on any but the lowest threat missions. Officially, Anakin was only an apprentice, not to assume the formal title of "padawan" until that age.

Knights junior to Obi-Wan were already seasoned knights, confident in their skills and leadership abilities. Even his friend, Garen Muln, knighted mere months, was a veteran of ten or more missions, while the "Sith Killer," Knight Kenobi, had spent his first twelvemonths Temple-bound.

It wasn't regret but curiosity that made him wonder what that first year normally felt like – to experience the bittersweet satisfaction of one's master severing one's braid, the thrill and butterflies of being on one's own, each and every decision in one's own hands.

His leadership skills were still untested, his capabilities not yet measured. He hoped someday to find out if the padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn was truly worthy of his rank, for the padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn had proved how much more he had still to learn not so very long ago, not long before his knighting.

He wouldn't find out for some time.

Missions such as this would require little leadership from him – the responsibility of seeing that his padawan ate and slept on a reasonable schedule, for one – even such responsibilities were largely out of his hands. This mission he had just one responsibility, to see that Anakin had learned the basics of protocol and was able to put his training into practice in the field.

The Jedi's presence was otherwise largely ceremonial. This was Naboo's day of remembrance, not the Republic's. As yet there had been no trial; no public acknowledgement that what happened on Naboo a year ago was illegal or that the tragedy of Naboo was not an accusation but a reality.

This legal limbo meant any Republic presence was only as honored guests, not participants. Even Chancellor Palpatine's role would be largely invisible; to avoid any appearance of being present in a political capacity, the Chancellor had scheduled a short vacation on his home planet, thus avoiding all formality that would normally attend his arrival.

This, of course, meant the Chancellor was not present as part of the welcoming committee that waited for the Jedi, though the briefing had indicated he would attend the ceremony. Catapulted into office by the events of a year ago, Palpatine walked a fine line. As Chancellor he could take no sides between the Naboo and the Trade Federation, as a Naboo citizen he was free to offer his personal support.

"He is in a position similar to the Jedi," Obi-Wan remembered explaining to Anakin. "The Order is formally a part of the Judiciary department and as such, we are not allowed a public alignment with either the Naboo or the Trade Federation. We shall be present, but we shall be silent, our roles unacknowledged."

Not unexpectedly, a boy barely ten didn't truly comprehend political realities or the need for a body like the Jedi Order to maintain its legal and political impartiality – the nuances of life just could not be grasped at such an age. At ten, there was right and there was wrong. Not until later did youthful innocence give way to life's realities.

"_But they tried to kill you and Master Qui-Gon!" _Anakin knew, as did the masters of the Order, that the Zabrak who had killed Qui-Gon and the one that Obi-Wan had killed in turn was not directly allied with the Trade Federation. The Sith's reappearance seemed mere happenstance – a chance to obtain Qui-Gon Jinn's "Chosen One" for the Sith. The Force, it seemed, brought Jedi, Sith and the "Chosen One" together. The blockade of Naboo had only been the means of bringing the Jedi to Tatooine before the Sith.

"_Such has not yet been proven in a court of law," Obi-Wan said. Seeing the boy's stormy eyes, he kneeled down and took the boy's hands in his. "As hard as it sometimes is, we live under a system of laws. All beings are entitled to make their defense. It is not a perfect system, Padawan, justice is not always done. It is the best system we have, for without laws we only have lawlessness, and the alternatives are far worse."_

"_You can tell them what they did!"_

"_I have given my deposition and I shall testify when it is time," Obi-Wan reassured the boy. "I have no need to prove what happened, to you or those that were there, but I have a duty to prove to the Republic that my words are truthful."_

_Anakin gaped at him. "But you're a Jedi knight! You don't lie."_

"_It is a jury I must convince of that, my padawan."_

"_But – make them believe. You can make them."_

_A tickle of unease had come with those words. "They will believe or not as they will. I cannot control their beliefs. I can only speak the truth as I know it, and they will have to accept my words or not."_

"_Then mind-whammy them."_

_This time Obi-Wan frowned. "A Jedi does not 'mind-whammy' anyone except in the most dire of needs, and solely in defense of himself or others. Is that clear?" When Anakin started to protest, Obi-Wan held up a hand. "Do not dispute that, Padawan. When it is time for you to learn mind-tricks, you will be taught how, when and why to use them. Save your words until those lessons and perhaps you will no longer have a need to ask more."_

_The blue eyes glistened and Anakin held back a sniffle. "Master Qui-Gon wouldn't talk to me like that."_

"_Master Qui-Gon is not your master and he spoke to me like that many a time. I did, as you will, survive without harm. With each skill you master, you must master as well the proper use of that skill. I will not condense years of training into one conversation, Padawan, I cannot. I am not being harsh; I am being realistic."_

_The tears spilled over and Anakin rushed into his room; the bed springs creaking as he threw himself onto it. _

_So, once again we go through this drama. What did my words trigger this time? Obi-Wan fixed a cup of tea and sank down in the couch, pinching his nose. _

_The wise and responsible use of his gifts had been one of Anakin's first lessons, perhaps the most important lesson of all to teach. That lesson was incorporated over and over again with the learning of each new skill. That lesson defined the Jedi, for with great power came the need to practice great responsibility. Anakin knew that; it was not his master's words that were the problem._

_Despite his heart's urging to comfort the boy, Obi-Wan remained in the common room as Anakin sobbed, staring blankly at the datapad he had picked up to study while the tantrum blew itself out._

"_Oh, Qui-Gon, am I handling this as I should?" But as always, there was no reply. Obi-Wan was on his own, finding his own way with his own padawan._

_It was not until the sobs diminished in intensity that Obi-Wan rose with a sigh and walked into Anakin's bedroom. There was only waiting out the tantrum until it subsided and then dealing with it afterwards._

_A flash of guilt shook through him as he paused in the doorway. The boy looked so small, there, face buried in his pillow. Anakin's pain was real, but the boy had too quickly learnt that tears and his face buried in his pillow stabbed his master's heart with so much remorse that he would escape even a deserved lecture for misbehavior. Recognizing finally the error of this, Obi-Wan no longer allowed Anakin to manipulate his master this way._

_He bit back the, "I'm sorry," that wished to escape his lips. Whatever triggered these tantrums, it was not Obi-Wan, and he would not take the burden of making things right upon himself. He would do as a master should – he would help Anakin help himself through them._

_The mattress dipped a bit as he sat on the edge of the bed and placed a comforting hand on the boy's small shoulder, rubbing small circles that eased the tension in the young body. _

"_What's really the matter, Padawan?"_

_Finally, a tearful and yet defiant voice whispered, muffled by the pillow, "You hate me."_

_Despite himself, Obi-Wan grinned. The boy was not going to use that against him, not any longer, now that he had recognized it as the weapon of choice for a scared and lonely boy still trying to prove his place – or lack of one. _

_The scars of their initial interactions were deep within them both, but meditation had allowed the young knight to move past them. The accusations had hurt, holding that kernel of truth in them that he _had_ resented the breach in his relationship with Qui-Gon due to the boy, but Obi-Wan had come to realize he had never blamed the boy and never would. The guilt from that kernel of truth had led to him desperately trying to prove the entire accusation false, to the detriment of discipline._

"_I do?" He let surprise bleed into his voice. "Hmm, why then am I sitting here – tickling you?" He pounced. Anakin giggled and squirmed underneath him, all signs of the tantrum gone with his laughter. _

"_Master, stop. Stop, Master." With a pretend grunt of surprise, Obi-Wan let his padawan push him off the bed and attack him in return. The physical exertion always washed the boy's frustration away._

_He enjoyed the brief tussle as much as Anakin did, and he had to admit, the boy's fierce hug that always followed. With that hug, all was right again in his padawan's world – and thus in his own, as well._

_The tantrums and the accusations had diminished over the months, for which Obi-Wan was most grateful. They had gradually settled into a routine and relatively comfortable association. Affection, not just common goals, now tied the two together. _

Looking down at his padawan, Obi-Wan came out of his reflections of the past year to see Anakin glancing sideways at him, a hopeful look in his eyes. While he didn't want to encourage his padawan's seeming need for outside approval, it was the boy's first official mission and as such, a momentous event in his young life.

_Yes, Padawan, you have done well_. As Anakin's eyes brightened, Obi-Wan added with a twinkle in his own eyes, _see that you continue to do so_.

In return, Obi-Wan got the mental equivalent of a stuck-out tongue. He matched it with a playful mental tweak of that same tongue tip. The peace in such childish gestures strangely comforted the young knight. All was well when teasing was given and accepted in return. Such teasing had signified a change in his own relationship with his master, when harmony and affection blossomed from seemingly sterile ground.

_Impudent brat_, sometimes just _brat_, Obi-Wan missed those playful epithets, signs of long desired affection teasingly bestowed. Perhaps, in time, he would find his own epithets for his padawan, and hope the uttering of the same would bring the same warm feeling to Anakin's heart.

Whatever bad associations he had with Naboo, Obi-Wan reflected; there was at least one thing good to come from those events – Anakin. He could not imagine life without his padawan. So many events tied into one day, this anniversary.

With the pleasantries exchanged, one of the Queen's retinue stepped forward and bowed his head in greeting before extending his hand in a gesture towards the Palace.

"Master Jedi, shall we move on?"

It was done; formalities completed. The Jedi were welcomed as guests, welcomed on a level less formal than that reserved for heads of state or ambassadors on official business. Obi-Wan had drilled Anakin rather extensively on the differences - to the point that the boy rather petulantly pointed that a half-bow was imperceptibly different than a three-quarters bow.

To demonstrate that the difference was noticeable when the Jedi was over three feet high – _that _had gotten a yelp of indignation from Anakin – versus when one was as tall as, say, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had demonstrated each position while standing, then stood on a chair for added height. Anakin had neglected to mention he had broken a leg of that same chair, and in turn Obi-Wan nearly had broken one of his own when he tumbled to the floor when the leg gave way when his weight was full upon the seat.

"A Jedi is always mindful," Anakin had pointed out helpfully, that time.

"Yes, indeed," Obi-Wan growled back, rubbing his backside. He hoped his pointed stare got the message across. He had leaped gracefully into the air – a nearly perfect demonstration of balance and reactions – only to land with a foot on a tiny droid part that caused his landing to turn into a one-legged hop and pained crash.

The merest tug of his cloak turned his peripheral attention to his padawan.

"Mix and mingle?" Anakin mouthed, looking up at his master for his nod of confirmation.

"_Semi_-_Formal_ mix and mingle," came the soft reminder. Obi-Wan turned to exchange some more words, less formal ones, with the Queen, only to see an exuberant Jar Jar bearing down on him. The Jedi braced himself.

"Obiiii! So good to see yousa, 'tis."

"Master Jedi, Binks," Boss Nass growled, lumbering after the lanky Gungan. One arm reached out and hauled Jar Jar back to his side. A wide smile spread over the big Gungan's face. "'Tis true though, good to see yousa, 'tis. And the boy – growing big he is. Growing up, not out like meesa." His hearty laugh shook the full jowls.

"Obi-Wan feeds me well," Anakin boasted, delighted to hear his inch of growth was noticed. Before he could declare his intent to match his master's height within no less than a year, he whirled with a little cry of delight.

Without even looking, the Jedi placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to keep him in place. The bunched muscles confirmed his suspicions; Anakin was about to forget himself and try to launch himself into the Queen's arms as she approached.

"Mucho to talk about, weesa do, Obiii and Ani, uh," Jar Jar found it impossible to continue with Boss Nass's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Talk more at social gathering later, weesa will. When yousa time to speak, weesa give the Jedi earplugs, weesa do, weesa thinking. Come along, Binks, later yousa can make a fool of yourself."

A gurgled "weesa see yousa later, Obiiiii, Ani," faded into the distance as Boss Nass dragged Jar Jar off, a hand still in place.

To his surprise, the young man realized while he couldn't truthfully say he actually had missed Jar Jar's presence, the free-spirited and entirely good-natured Gungan was a bit of fresh air, and in appropriately small doses, even acceptable. Qui-Gon Jinn would be rather proud of his padawan's hard-won tolerance.

"Master Jedi, it is a pleasure to see you again." Sio Bibble, the head minister approached. The thick white hair was now thinning and the lines had deepened in his face.

"Governor." The young Jedi bowed in greeting. Staying behind on Naboo to serve as a "liaison" between the Naboo populace and the occupying Trade Federation, the man had subtly used all his political skills to ensure that the man meant to be a "puppet" and to placate the populace served his people first.

His "plea" for the Queen to contact him, that her people were dying, served to get word out that the occupation was indeed anything but peaceful. The words had knotted the then-padawan's stomach, a very real reminder that this game of evasion involved more than just the Queen, her retinue and crew, and the two Jedi – it affected the lives of an entire planet.

Once the occupying droid army had been deactivated and the Trade Federation leaders captured, the Queen's bodyguards had scattered to the camps in search of comrades and able-bodied citizens to begin the process of restoring Naboo's citizens to their disrupted lives.

One of the first freed from the camps, weary and ill, Sio Bibble had immediately taken charge of restoring order and liberating the camps, working tirelessly night and day. Sio Bibble was indeed one of the silent heroes of that time, a calm presence and a firm hand that saw that the injured and ill as well as those medical personnel who could treat them were the first freed as the starving were the first to be fed.

Respect, not just formalities, infused the young knight's bow. Predictably, the governor brushed it off.

"Now, now, Master Jedi, you had a hand in getting everything organized despite your own grief. Your red eyes betrayed more than a lack of sleep. I never really got a chance to talk to you, or thank you, once your Jedi Council arrived; I hope to rectify that later. Naboo owes the Jedi a debt of gratitude that can unfortunately never be adequately recognized, such is politics. Come, young man, let's start this procession off towards the Palace."

With a friendly hand on one arm, the elderly politician urged the Jedi forward at the same time a small boy darted forward to be at his friend Padme's side. Before he could take more than a step, a slim hand slid from within a tunic sleeve and cloak, caught Anakin's shoulder and gently urged him back, behind the Queen, behind his master and to the side.

A small grunt of exasperation escaped the boy; Obi-Wan's lips twitched.

With a snort of amusement, the governor shook his head and leaned in confidentially to whisper in the knight's ear, "So, tell me young master, does that little one still cause you to chase around after him? He has more energy than you and I together…."

That quickly, the two Jedi were escorted to the palace, where both their lives had begun anew almost one year previously.


	3. Weeping Endures for a Night

I am the first to admit that this story is a lot of flashbacks - but we all "know" the story so well I don't want to cover known ground in detail, hence the flashbacks that tie in with the current events. Even I have my doubts about the style, but sometimes the story just gets written the way you see it.

* * *

With a silent sigh of relief, Obi-Wan noticed that the suite given to them was about as far away as possible from the suite given to the Jedi just a year before. He had not slept - truly slept -one night there; the day of their arrival had been the beginning of three all but sleepless nights.

Only Qui-Gon had slept there, in eternal sleep. The healers, unable to practice their craft, had silently brought the body there, and there Obi-Wan had done his duty to the dead. He had gently cleansed the cold flesh and dressed the body in clean tunics and leggings.

What remained of Qui-Gon had seemed so much less, the mortal body no longer filled by the larger than life soul of his master, bearing its own silent testimony to the truth that the luminous being inside was the true being. It was not his master at whose side he had kept vigil that night, but it had been the shell he wore when alive in this galaxy and it had been the face of the man who had raised him.

It was the loss of that tangible reminder of his mentor that had hurt the most; the emptiness within that shell had mirrored the emptiness within himself, that cold and empty void where once a living and vibrant bond had warmed a corner of his mind.

Seeking admittance into that void had scraped and clamored all the aches and pains of a still living body – the sharp biting pain of a severed bond, broken ends sparking like broken wires, the alternately dull yet stabbing pain in his heart, and the more easily ignored aches and pains of a body fresh from a bruising fight.

Secure in his knowledge that the Jedi Council would come and take charge, that the young boy that Qui-Gon had championed was safe in the keeping of the Naboo, that Naboo was now secure and all that could be done had been done, the grieving padawan had shut himself in that first night to bear his lonely vigil, fingers twined with the limp and cooling hand that would never again brush his cheek or tug at his braid.

There he had cried his tears, and there he had dried them himself, for there was none to dry them for him. There was nothing for him for everything he cared about lay silent and still, soon to be consumed by the flames.

He had not been the only one to mourn, that night or the next. All of Naboo mourned, for those imprisoned and those killed fighting to reclaim their planet.

When he had finally slept, he had slept on his knees at the side of the bed, grasping onto the last, faint traces of the man he loved above all others, a lock of his long hair clasped in his fist just as the tail of his own braid lay pressed into Qui-Gon's palm, the intermingled grey-brown and red-brown still fused as one.

Come the morning he had wiped away all signs of his vigil, risen from stiff knees and dressed in tunics that still bore signs of the dying man he had held in his arms, and stiffly gone forth to see what assistance he could offer to those in need. The dead could not be helped; they were in the hands of the Force, but in his hands he had the Force to help those alive, those not yet dead even should they be dying.

With the Force as his eager ally, he had severed barricades and erected shelters. He had searched for healers in the midst of crowds and helped them to identify and triage those in need of healers help.

He had walked among the sick and the injured, the shell-shocked and the silent, offering hope, food and a friendly touch, until the grief of a Jedi padawan and the grief of Naboo became simply shared grief and shared purpose.

Most important of all, he had become a witness. What he saw and what he heard would become evidence.

As he had worked tirelessly those few days before the Council's arrival, he could feel Qui-Gon walking at his side. When he was about to collapse, Qui-Gon gave him the strength to remain on his feet and move forward to help one in greater need. When he returned at night, exhausted, Qui-Gon was at his shoulder.

Early in the morning of the second day Qui-Gon's body had been moved to its final resting place, the bier prepared and the body lying in honored rest. Obi-Wan could only

watch as the honor guard bore the body away. He would not see Qui-Gon again until his memorial, in the company of those Jedi soon to arrive.

Later that morning of that second day, he had found himself before Anakin's room, drawn there by both his promise and the Force. The door had opened easily at his touch to show a young boy huddled within a large bed, hope and shame shining from damp eyes now affixed on his own. With a start, the padawan had realized the boy was alone, alone just as he was.

"Come," he had said gently, kneeling beside the bed and holding out his arms.

In less than a minute his arms had been filled by a small boy sobbing against his chest. "You came."

"I came." _Oh, Force, he needed me and I did not come. Now I have, and all he can say is, "you came." _"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"You needed me, too, and I didn't come."

How could a heart break more than once?

Obi-Wan had sat on the floor and gathered Anakin in his arms, tucking the boy's head under his chin. "Then we shall redeem ourselves by sticking together, okay? You're coming to my room tonight where you won't be alone – but first, shall we see to some breakfast?"

At Anakin's nod against his chest, Obi-Wan had smiled. It had felt like his first smile in days. He stood, and offered a hand to the boy. It was too late to offer his heart; it had already been given.

"Let's go, then, as soon as you change into daytime clothing."

Over breakfast he had found what Qui-Gon had known from the first: this child of prophecy was just a child, and one lonely and fearful of admitting the same, with only a handmaiden to keep him company during the day past. A boy with a dream to be more than he was and a boy with the power of the Force, untamed and instinctive.

Obi-Wan had wanted to leave Anakin behind as he resumed what little he could do to help the Naboo. A boy should not be exposed to more cruelties, but Anakin had tugged at his hand when he meant to leave.

"There are children in the camps, aren't there?" At Obi-Wan's silent nod, Anakin had reached up to touch the padawan's cheek, the tear betraying a memory. "I can help them, Obi-Wan. I can."

"But Anakin….."

"I was a slave, Obi-Wan," the boy had confessed, not willing to meet the Jedi's eyes. Only later had Obi-Wan realized how hard it had been for Anakin to admit that. "I've seen a lot of bad things in my life. A few more won't hurt me – and I can help them."

And he had.

He had lifted their spirits in play and kept the children occupied while the adults labored on. He had brought hope to the children and in so doing, to their parents as well.

That night, when Obi-Wan had tucked him in, in the untouched bed that had been meant for him, Anakin had yawned and whispered, "I know it still hurts, Obi-Wan, but you've got me, now."

"I've got you now." He had touched the boy's cheek as Anakin snuggled into his hand. _I've got you now_– it was a promise.

Once Anakin's breathing had slowed into the rhythm of sleep, Obi-Wan had moved over to and curled up in a nearby chair. The Council would arrive the day after next, and the boy's future was in doubt. If they denied him – he would just have to find a way to keep both his promises, that to Qui-Gon and that to Anakin - even if that meant giving up his own dream to be a Jedi Knight.

With Anakin at his side, the padawan knew he would find the strength to face what would come next – greeting the Council with the stoicism and acceptance of a Jedi. After that public greeting would come the private: facing the Council and confessing his brush with the dark side.

Wiping a mask of Jedi serenity onto his countenance as he had earlier brushed crumbs from Anakin's face, the Jedi padawan saw that the Trade Federation prisoners were handed over to Republic custody and greeted the members of the Jedi Council. All had come to pay their respects to Qui-Gon Jinn, each and every one. Duty done, asked to remain in his guest quarters, Obi-Wan had settled into a kneeling meditative posture that was more exhaustion than meditation. The Council would send for him to present his full report at a later time.

Anakin was once again with the handmaidens; Obi-Wan's need for solitary reflection easily accepted.

He had not moved, not until a feather light touch brushed his head.

_"Young one." The gentle hand slipped from his head as Obi-Wan stirred underneath the touch. "Alone you are not. Here at your side I am and here I will stay a while."_

Master Yoda stood before him. The gentleness of his touch brought forth the tears Obi-Wan had thought were all shed.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry we all are, yet rejoice for Master Qui-Gon's return to the Force we do. Soon you will rejoice as well."

"I can't." The denial shamed him. "I can't."

In response, that three-fingered hand again rested on his head and Obi-Wan could feel the Force gently wrapping around his bruised mind and heart. Obi-Wan continued to kneel, eyes closed, afraid to lean into the touch yet craving it desperately. As if in response to that thought, the fingers gentled through his hair and fingered his braid.

"Do what must be done, you can, Padawan."

"I can't, Master, I cannot do it, not yet."

"You can. Within you is the strength to do what you think you cannot, to do what must be done. Your gift from the Force it is. Much strength within you; call on it soon you must. Not now, young one, too busy you have been to seek the Force. Too tired to find the strength you are. Busy helping others you have been. Help you the Force can. Here I am as well."

Soothing calm washed through him, softening the grief and blanketing the pains. He drew a long, shuddering breath, the first full breath without pain since greeting the Council.

"A burden you carry within you, a burden lessened if you share it," the little master said, rather gently for him. "Unburden yourself, young one."

"I'm no Jedi," burst out of him. "I failed him, and I have failed my training. It is my fault, Master. Mine."

"Failed to be perfect, you did, only that. Run ahead of you did Qui-Gon not? Failure is his as well. Perfection you will never find except in the Force. Let it go, young one. Too many burdens you take upon yourself; burdens that are not yours to bear in addition to your own. Pain and grief, as well – let them go. Master Qui-Gon, let him go. Remember your lessons you must."

"It is hard. I look for him without thought and I find him not."

"Then for him look in the Force," Yoda replied quietly. "Luminous beings we are, have I not taught you? Find the strength to let go and find your master you will, young Obi-Wan. When grief is gone, live again he will inside you. Make room for him, young one, as you made room for the one who was the cause of your hurt at your master's words - as you made room for the Force to burn away your hate."

Obi-Wan's head shot up at that.

"Know details I do not, sensed it I did. Silence you may keep until the Council convenes, or share with me now you may. Speak of it you must at some time, for a trial that was that all face. Face the dark all do, touch it many do as well, those who know it and turn away from it, the strongest of all in the light they become."

It felt like the sun burning through clouds, a dose of cold water onto an out-of-control fire.

"I fought with the dark as my ally," Obi-Wan confessed. Yoda's eyes prompted him to continue. "I killed, but I did not kill as I fought. I did not kill in anger, or in hate. I am not tainted?"

He laced his fingers together, awaiting the master's pronouncement. Yoda's eyes held only compassion, but no answers. He would be forced to find his own answers, as was the Jedi way.

"Tell me you will, tell you I will not. Tell me, is that burden lifted from you? Wish, do you, to touch the dark again, let it give you power and strength to live when otherwise you would die?"

Despite himself, the padawan shuddered. "I had that choice – only the choice was to die in the light or to die in the dark. I chose the light. I would rather save my soul than my life."

"So, my question you did not answer. Tainted do you feel?"

"There will always be a small part of me that will feel tainted," Obi-Wan admitted. "Perhaps that is good. As long as I feel shame at that, I will know I belong to the light."

"The answer of a Jedi knight that is," Yoda said approvingly. "After 800 years still the shame is there. That shame, Obi-Wan, tuck it away. Need it you do not, not until such a time as you might need to call on it, then strengthen you it will."

"Yes, Master."

A clawed hand rested on his head. "Grand-padawan of mine, suffer you do from severance of the bond and an excess of helping others. Rest now you should, gather your strength to face the Council alone with no master at your side."

"The boy – Anakin – he -."

"Yes, yes, know we do of his part. Spoken to many we have, spoke to the boy I did myself. Much – sorrow in him, but much affection as well – for you. Not for a Jedi are these emotions, not so untamed and powerful.

"He is untrained. He needs to be trained."  
"Spoken to the boy have you?"

"I – not of Qui-Gon's last words." Obi-Wan bowed his head. "I had to tell him – he did not wish to see me at first. He – blamed me."

"Hmm, perhaps, but blamed yourself you have as well. Yet longs for your company he does – few friends he has, alone he feels for the Queen has her own duties to attend."

"We have made our peace."

"This, too, I know." A gentle smile graced the impish face. "In grief you became united, in helping others, each other you have helped. Good that is. The boy, yes, needs you he does," Yoda murmured. "Perhaps, more than rest, together you should be, yes, alone with each other and alone neither of you shall be."

Together they had been until Obi-Wan faced the Council. Together again afterwards they were, until Obi-Wan was summoned to the room lent to the Council, to find only Yoda, and the bestowal of his rank. Together they were still, now master and padawan.

A hand on his arm and a soft, "Does it hurt to remember, Master?" caused Obi-Wan to realize he was still staring down the long hallway, deep in his memories.

"Not the part that resulted in your braid, my Padawan, not at all. As to the rest…what I feel is more like the echo of pain," he said, twisting about and smiling. "I remember the hurt and the grief, yes, but I don't experience it as I did then. I am not about to break down and cry, if that is what you are asking."

"You don't cry, Master."

The absolute certainty in that voice startled him. He knelt down to look the boy in the eyes. He had heard the boy's cries in his sleep, the tears he always denied and the tears he could never wipe away for the tears would always be brushed away before he could even get to his homesick padawan's side.

"Everyone cries, Padawan."

"I've never seen you cry."

No, he had never let Anakin see his tears. Anakin had his own tears in those weeks to deal with; he didn't need his master's as well. His tears came in the lonely hours of the night; somehow, his tears were much too far away when in his padawan's presence.

Only Siri had seen his tears, and just that one time. Her shoulder had been just what he had needed, and he would be eternally grateful for that.

He touched Anakin's cheek and admitted, "No."  
With the logic of a child, Anakin decided his point was made. "That means you don't cry, Master."

"That is poor logic, young one. Have you ever seen me, I don't know, kiss anyone?" He stood to lead the way down the hallway, to be stopped by a question he had not thought to face.

"No. Have you?"

Now he was in for it, balancing openness and privacy. He supposed he came up with that example of "kissing" because of his earlier thought of Siri. "Yes."

"Who?"

"A girl." He laughed at Anakin's indignant scowl.

"What girl and when?"

"You're inquisitive. A girl and it was a long time ago, and just the one time." _Please, just leave it at that. I want to leave that in the past where it belongs._

"Why? Did Master Qui-Gon catch you? Did you get in trouble?"

"No, we weren't caught, and I might have been in trouble, yes, had we, uh, kissed more than once. We didn't, because we decided," _forced, more like it_, he thought, but forced into the right decision, "we were too young even if we were of legal age and not meant to be kissing. Jedi and kisses don't make a good combination - unless, of course, it's this kind of kiss." Obi-Wan touched his finger to his lips, then to Anakin's forehead and winked.

The boy giggled, and the young man sighed in relief. If he'd been forced into more details, he would have spoken of that time he was perhaps five and planting his first ever kiss on a girl. Four-year-old Siri had rubbed a hand on her cheek and stared at him, wide-eyed and solemn, then quietly said, "Ick" and planted one on his forehead before giggling and running away from him.

Childish kisses on the cheeks didn't _really_ count as kisses, but that last kiss would be forever burned in his heart as it had then burned on his lips. That had, indeed, been a kiss, his first and last _real_ kiss.

"Can I kiss Padme like that?"

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, then remembered his finger kiss demonstration. Really, there was no harm in such things at such a young age.

"Ask her later tonight." The young Jedi tousled the boy's hair. "I don't think queens kiss, but Padme might – for you."

"Padme will let me kiss her," he said with absolute certainty. "And because I'm cute, maybe even more than once."

Despite himself, Obi-Wan grinned and held up one finger. "One only, Padawan. Only one kiss."


End file.
